Final Word Count: PFFFFFFFT; 1 journal page
Well, I did a bit yesterday, really nothing worth noting. It wasn’t one of my better days on any front- I went to Shoppers for a bus pass, and walked out with the pass and dinner (you know dinner can’t be great when it came from a drug store). I assure you, it wasn’t just gummy worms.
Well. I planned on going to yoga this morning. It didn’t happen. My alarm woke up up at 5:30 to a dream that has my convinced Stephen King AND Dean Koontz (and every other established tenant of the horror genre) hijacked my brain. Who dreams the kind of scary nightmares I do? SERIOUSLY! And to make matters worse, it feels like Freddy Kreuger has been systematically shredding my brain all day.
So I went back to bed because there was no way I could function as a normal person after waking up to “Killers and Others.” It was so bad I can’t even use it for the horror plot! Whatever is out there that’s cosmically screwing me up, I give up fighting you. You can roll me around in your giant mixer, tumbling me every which way and I’ll thank you for it. You know why? Because I’ll emerge polished and gleaming, a scintillating beacon of creativity and enlightenment. Sometimes we just have to go through these moments.
I was in the shower, scrubbing my poor little body raw trying shake off the less-than-stellar start to the day when I realized that I think a big part of the problem for me is that I’ve begun to take this too seriously. The word count is turning into a drill sergeant and at the end of each unsuccessful day, I fall asleep to an abbreviated dirge. Well, NO MORE!
This was supposed to be fun and exploratory and possibly the biggest adventure of my life. I have to keep that in mind and let things be what they are. I’ll do my best not to get bogged down with the expectation of success yet try to maintain my best efforts. That’s a pretty tricky balance but I’ll do my best to manage.
12 Novels in 12 Months 